


Smauglock Uni-Swap ficlet

by RebeccaOTool



Category: Sherlock (TV), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Animal Transformation, Gen, Smauglock, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 13:21:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebeccaOTool/pseuds/RebeccaOTool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little Universe-Swap between Sherlock and The Hobbit. How I think the world's greatest detective might REALLY react to being a dragon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smauglock Uni-Swap ficlet

John tried not to look at Sherlock every time the detective shifted his scaly bulk. The sheer enormity hurt his eyes.

Sherlock, for his part, wasn’t saying anything: he was curled into a ball, head tucked under one massive wing. John was leaning on a pile of gold coins. He’d nearly been burned when he rested on Sherlock’s side.

The golden light shining off the treasure was the least freaky thing about this scenario. Not that John could complain about his transformation: All he’d gotten was bigger feet, longer hair, pointed ears, and lost some height. He was still humanoid.

“Sherlock?” He got to his feet, nearly slipping on the coins. “We’d better try and figure out what’s going on.”

There was no response from the draconic detective.

John sighed. “We could be hallucinating, although I don’t think it’s very likely. It’s not like at Baskerville where I felt off. I suppose it could be a dream, but that doesn’t seem real plausible either.”

He waited for Sherlock to tell him he was an idiot. The massive wall of scales shivered and curled in on itself tighter.

“Sherlock?” John started the long trip around Sherlock’s body, trying to find where he’d tucked his head. “Stop sulking. We need to figure this out!”

The massive wings trembled and shifted a little. John tried not to shout and run, which this body insisted he do. This was Sherlock. His friend was not going to eat him, or engulf him in flames.

Huge golden eyes peered at him from the darkness under the wings. At least he was listening.

“Maybe we should try and get out of this cave?” John suggested gently. “I think there’s a door—”

“ **No**.” The eyes shut.

The single word nearly shook John off his feet. It wasn’t just the volume. Sherlock’s voice was barely discernible amongst the deep rumbling. If he hadn’t known that was Sherlock, he might never have guessed it. “Why not?”

The coins shifted around Sherlock for a few moments, and the golden eyes opened. “ **I don’t want to be a dragon**.”

“No, I suppose not.” John said, weary. “But you are, and we need to find out why. Not to mention why I’ve turned into a hobbit, and how we got here.”

When Sherlock didn’t reply, John forced himself closer, nearly touching the dragon’s flank. Coins slid away from him, and there was a strange vibration under his massive feet. John stared at the ground for a moment, confused. What the hell was causing that?

He looked back up and it hit him: Sherlock was trembling.

“Sherlock?” He said softly, laying a hand on one of Sherlock’s massive claws. It could take his head off in a second. “Um…It’s okay.”

It wasn’t, but what the hell was he supposed to say? If it was anyone but Sherlock, he would have expected this. Sherlock seemed more the type to start trying his wings, exploring the cave, and generally figure out how Dragons functioned.

But instead he was afraid.

Slowly, Sherlock lifted his head from under his wings. John tried not to shudder. It was half the size of a bus, with teeth longer than he was tall.

“ **It is _not_ okay**.” He rumbled.

“I had to say something.” John backed off a few paces. “I know it’s not okay. But it won’t be okay unless we try and figure this out together.”

Sherlock laid his massive head on the pile of treasure, a few feet for John. He could smell smoke and sulfur coming from his mouth. “ **This is impossible**.”

John smiled weakly. “Improbable.”

Sherlock’s massive eyes narrowed. “ **Don’t joke, John**.”

“Or what, you’ll charbroil me?” It wasn’t a good joke, but John hardly expected the reaction he got: Sherlock’s eyes widening in horror, and a desperate scramble away from the hobbit. Coins and jewels sprayed into the air, and he had to race backwards to avoid being buried. “Oi, Sherlock, stop!”

To his amazement, Sherlock froze. The coins settled after a few moments. “ **Are you alright**?”

John took a shaky breath. “I’m fine. Just don’t do that again. Alright?”

Sherlock nodded, and coiled in on himself.

He approached Sherlock slowly, navigating the piles of coins with care. One slip and he’d slide off into a corner, or create an avalanche or something. “What are you afraid of?”

Sherlock didn’t look at him. “ **Killing you. Getting killed by angry Dwarves or Men. Getting used to this and forgetting everything else**.”

“And why do you think any of that will happen?” John stood next to his head and braced a hand on a (relatively) small spike near the corner of his mouth.

Sherlock eyed him curiously. “ **Don’t you think it will**?”

“Sherlock, I don’t feel in the least bit Hobbitish. Why should you feel anything like a dragon, let alone turn totally into one? Maybe if you were a bit dim, yeah. But you’re Sherlock Holmes. All you care about is brains. So why should it matter what’s carrying yours around?”

Sherlock pondered this. “ **I hadn’t considered that**.”

“That’s because you’re a git.” John grinned. “So are you going to get up and help me solve this, or do you want to just lay about?”

Sherlock standing up was a sight to see. John forced himself not to gawp. He was the size of a bloody football field.

“ **Go find the dwarves that are hanging around near the side door and tell them they can have their stupid treasure. I can smell them from here, they’re worried about you**.”

“And then what?” John spotted the small opening Sherlock was looking at.

“ **Then we talk to Gandalf about getting us back to our normal bodies and maybe chucking that evil ring of yours into a fire. Save everyone some trouble.** ”

John’s hand groped for his pocket, feeling the small lump. He hadn’t put the ring on, and didn’t bloody intend to. Thank God he’d dragged Sherlock to the theater and made him watch these movies. He’d forgotten the ring entirely. “Alright. I’ll be back in a moment. Just stay here.”

Sherlock’s nose was buried in a particularly old-looking mound of treasure. John shook his head and hurried out. They’d have a lot of explaining to do…

0o0o0o0o0

His new height hadn’t bothered Bilbo, or the strange things all around the rooms. Being on the second floor of the inn gave him a bit of a start, as did his weirdly small feet and ears. But he could deal with all that.

What was much harder was the fact that Smaug the Terrible was also a man, and currently curled up in one of the bedrooms on top of a mound of various shiny objects stolen from other rooms. Bilbo had tried to talk to him, but had only gotten hissed at for his trouble.

The look on the dragon-turned-human’s face when he realized he could no longer spit fire was almost worth the trouble.

“Fine, be that way. I’m going to make some tea, if you’d like to join me.” Bilbo shook his head and went into the kitchen. Gandalf would figure it out and restore everything to normal. At this point he was just happy not to be pursued by orks and goblins and wargs and giant spiders. A bit of a rest, however odd, would do him good.

“At least they have a decent tea set here.” He lifted a silver teapot, secretly a little pleased at being able to reach. This wasn’t so bad after all.

0o0o0o0o0

Fin


End file.
